Tay and New have been married for years and they try to figure out how to change their dynamic once they discover they're expecting.
Oh! Did I mention Tay's deaf?
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side note:
the cover is likely to change
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TAY's POV
I grinned as I stood up from the couch and headed towards the stairs, slipping my phone into my back pocket. My smile grew even wider when I walked into the bathroom and saw my husband in the tub, the top of his baby bump peeping out of the water.
"Did it help?" I asked as I snatched New's towel and tossed it to the side before assisting him to stand and step out o the tub.
As he hauled himself up, he shrugged a little and grabbed my forearms. He claimed he can barely remember what it's like to be comfortable at thirty-nine weeks. He said he was in nearly constant pain from carrying such a large baby, as his doctor kept reminding him.
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NEW's POV
This baby is too big! My feet are hurting, my hips are hurting, and my back is hurting...
Curse the Vihokratana genes!
I honestly don't remember the last time I slept through the night without the baby kicking at my organs waking me up.
Today, however, the pain was different. My whole body felt sore and tender, and I'd woken up to a new kind of pressure on my pelvis, indicating that the baby had dropped and was preparing for birth.
At the very least, I was relieved that it was the weekend, which meant Tay wouldn't have to work and would be able to spend time with me at home. He had given me toast and chopped-up fruit in bed this morning, one of the few items that didn't make my stomach roll with the baby pressing up against it and making my life miserable. Tay and I had spent the morning in bed together till Tay recommended taking a bath to relieve the ache.
However, after bathing in the warm water for nearly an hour, I felt much worse. I tried to ignore the cramping in my lower abdomen by leaning most of my weight on Tay as he patted me dry. I'm quite sure I've been in labor for a few hours now, but I'm not going to admit it to myself. I'm terrified, and the only way to properly delay it is to deny it, or so I kept telling myself. I knew I couldn't hide it forever, but my cramps — which I refused to call contractions since it seemed too real — were still around fifteen minutes apart, so we had time.
